


You're My Home

by jeepster



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeepster/pseuds/jeepster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignette scene with HG & Myka from HG's perspective. A dialogue about their feelings.</p>
<p>It's drivel without any merit but I'd appreciate anyone's thoughts on capturing their voices better; I wrote it in order to procrastinate writing myself out of a hard spot in my other HG/Myka vehicle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My Home

"I hope I never cause you pain, Myka."

"Impossible," said Myka with open-faced trust. But Helena saw something else, an involuntary twinge before Myka chose how to respond. Now, her eyes and her smile were relaxed, her mouth a little crooked in that way she liked to disarm Helena with. Perhaps that was the clue. That smile told Helena that Myka wanted to win her over. Helena felt guilt wash over her; it wasn't Myka's responsibility to make amends, to make her feel better. And she knew Myka really believed what she said, that it would be impossible for Helena to hurt her– now. But the twinge told the truth.

"I've learned many things are possible," Helena said mildly. Even as she said it, she realized it was the wrong response. She couldn't be vague, she couldn't gloss over what she'd done.

She started over, eyes flicking to the floor, to the window, to Myka's searching eyes, to Myka's mouth as her smile faded– "I've hurt you. I… I hate the thought that…" She looked up to meet Myka's eyes. "I can't stand the thought of hurting you again. The trust you put in me, after everything, it's more than I'd thought was possible."

Myka narrowed her eyes. "Helena Wells," she began a little severely, but her tone was belied by the smile that played at the corner of her mouth, and the hand that slipped over Helena's own. Myka's fingertips danced lightly over Helena's hand until she turned it over. Helena almost shivered as Myka moved her thumb lightly over a line in her palm. "I'll keep telling you this if I need to," she continued, a little softer. Her thumb continued its teasing caress, like Myka was taking cues from the lines in her palms. But her eyes never left Helena's face. "You are not the bad guy," she said firmly. "I believed in you, and I was right."

There was a pause as Myka continued to caress Helena's palm, and Helena couldn't bear to look away from her steady, level gaze. Suddenly Helena was overwhelmed with the largeness of the feeling, like she was drowning in the love that Myka had for her. 

"You make me want to be that person," Helena said simply. "That person you think I am."

"The person I know you are," said Myka. Myka's hand trailed from Helena's palm to the inside of her wrist, and she moved her thumb against the soft skin there under the sleeve. Helena looked down at Myka's hand, breath hitching at the promise there. She hadn't felt the pang of this feeling in a very long time, this excitement and love and fear and desire. And then Myka took her hand away, bringing it almost to her own mouth– Helena looked at those fingers, then at that mouth, with no thought in her mind but wanting– and finally Myka brought her hand to Helena's jaw, tracing her jawline with her thumb, her fingertips ghosting along till they touched the sensitive spot where her jaw met her throat. "My friend the time traveler," whispered Myka very quietly, reverently. Helena leaned very, very slightly into Myka's touch, eyes almost closed, lips not quite parting. She felt closer at this moment to Myka than she'd ever been. Nothing was between them; no wicked plots or lies, no danger of imminent doom, no secret sorrows, no puzzles to distract. 

Helena held her breath for a moment, feeling as though she was stepping to the edge of a precipice. She opened her mouth to speak and the unnamed fear sharpened her focus. Myka saw this change, and met her eyes. Helena's words and breath caught in her throat. Myka waited, bringing her other hand up to steady Helena's suddenly shaking hand. Her fingers were cold and Myka squeezed them and rubbed her fingers, which warmed them and reassured her. 

Helena smiled shakily at the tender gesture, so familiar between them– Helena remembered the time after she was freezing to death with the artifact from some famous shipwreck she'd never heard of. Myka's human kindness had warmed her as much as her coat and comforting nearness. But she could see that despite herself, the young agent had wanted more than kindness between them. Maybe Myka hadn't even known she wanted it at the time, but Helena knew what that looked like in a woman, and it looked like the blush on Myka's face and the flash of black in her light eyes.

If it had been veiled and guarded then, it was almost in the open now. Helena felt a jolt of electricity through her body at the thought of that, the thought of laying bare this thing that was between them. It was hot electricity that started at the back of her neck and spread through her stomach, a sharp twinge low in her belly, like desire, and a shock-like sensation in her feet, like fear. It was the fear of falling from a great height.

One more breath.

Myka's clear green eyes were locked on hers.

Hold it. Falling now. Say it.

"Myka…"

"Helena," Myka whispered almost inaudibly, expectantly.

"I love you," Helena said, eyebrows drawn together and eyes downcast, a parishioner behind a screen saying the words for absolution. "I love you– a great deal. I'm in love with you, in fact."

Once the words were out, with no room for ambiguity, it was all Helena could do not to hide her face with her hands, run from the room, groan wordlessly. Anything to break this tension. 

She'd taken a step she couldn't walk back, with the one person who tethered her to this world, the one person who knew her better than anyone else in this century. Maybe the last century, too. Someone she didn't want to, couldn't, live without.

After thinking this, Helena slowly became aware that she was making a hideous grimace, eyes shut tightly , and that she was squeezing Myka's hand hard. She tried to relax her face and opened one eye, then the other. Myka was looking at her with the same easy smile– what a turn! – and as Helena loosened her grip on her hand, Myka caressed her thumb against Helena's palm again. Then she gently brought Helena's hand up to her mouth, and kissed the back of her hand gently, lingering, with her eyes on Helena's. Myka brought her other hand then, too, and holding Helena's hand in both of hers, turned it so her palm faced up. She placed another kiss on the palm of Helena's hand, and Helena inwardly thrilled at the intimacy of this.

After holding her gaze for another moment, Myka finally spoke. "I never stopped being in love with you, Helena. That's what made it hurt so much before, but I'm glad for it. It brought me back. It brought you back, too, I think."

Helena saw the quirk of a question in Myka's eyes when she said "I think." There was an exquisitely painful swelling feeling of pride at her friend's ability to know this about her. Pride in Myka's strength at returning to the Warehouse, her strength of character and unabashed intelligence. She was so unlike the women Helena was accustomed to– she was used to making allowances for women, but with Myka, she felt challenged, bettered. After a moment she spoke: "You're right," Helena said quietly. 

Myka took in a deep breath and Helena heard her swallow hard. "I'm glad. I just want you to know," she said, and her glance flicked around the room before she met Helena's eyes again, "I want to be– I want to be your home here."

Something rose and overflowed in Helena. She was suddenly smiling through a veil of happy tears. "My darling Myka, you already are."


End file.
